


Crossing Wires

by ddagent



Category: Holby City
Genre: Confusion, F/F, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Bernie thinks it’s a job interview. Serena thinks it’s a date. Hilarity ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt “One of us thinks this is a date but the other thinks it’s an informal job interview”. I wanted to get this done before I start packing for my trip to see Catherine and WTBS this weekend and I just managed to finish! Huge thanks to @ktlsyrtis for the cheerleading. You are amazing. I hope you all enjoy! :D

_Just saw on BBC News about the train derailment in Holby City. I hope your shift wasn’t too much of a nightmare. Keep safe._

_Bernie Wolfe._

_Bernie,_

_Thank you so much for your concern. We were the lead hospital on the accident so we were quickly overwhelmed. Our CEO keeps making promises about a new trauma bay, but with no trauma surgeon at the helm we’re unlikely to get the funding. Know anyone? ; )_

_S x_

_I might know a good trauma surgeon. In fact, I know four. Two of them are still on active duty so I doubt they’ll be much good to you. Maybe we could talk about it next month? I’m in Holby visiting my children, we could grab a drink? Maybe even some food? Would be great to see you._

_Bernie Wolfe._

_It’s a date. You’ve got my number, call me when you’re in town._

_S x x_

_\--_

Bernie checked her texts for the third time that afternoon, confirming the details of her meeting with Serena Campbell. _Providence Wine Bar, 7pm._ She considered writing the details down on her hand but resisted, fearing it would either wash off before the meeting or rub off on Serena’s hand when they shook. Not exactly the perfect first impression she was aiming for.

“Okay, how about this?” Bernie announced, stepping out of the small hotel bathroom and to the waiting approval of her children.

Cameron bobbed his head, too busy staring at his phone to really give a proper opinion on her outfit. Charlotte, at least, was paying attention. “I don’t know, Mum. You’re going to a wine bar, not going to court on murder charges.”

Bernie ignored her son’s soft snigger, instead turning away to stare in the slim mirror by the door. It did appear as if she was trying too hard. The pencil skirt felt alien to her; the sheer tights sticky against her legs. The blouse was nice but the jacket – half price at M&S – did nothing for her. Huffing, Bernie shucked the jacket and tossed it on the bed with the rest of her failed attempts. She hadn’t planned to spend the afternoon in and out of high street shops, but Charlotte had taken one look at her balled up clothes and rolled her eyes, practically dragging her mother to Debenhams.

“I want to look _somewhat_ professional,” Bernie said out of the half open bathroom door, pulling on outfit number five. “This is a job interview after all.”

“Yeah, but an informal one! You told me that Ms Campbell’s a friend of yours. You’ll probably spend the entire evening getting sloshed on wine.”

Bernie shrugged. “Probably. I just…I want to impress her.”

Serena Campbell, well-respected vascular surgeon with an MBA from Harvard, was _worth_ impressing. Bernie had first realised that when she’d glimpsed Serena in a conference hall in Bath, where the surgeon had proceeded to lecture the speaker on proper artery repair. She had reduced the young man to a blithering wreck, unable to string a full sentence together for a good half hour. Such was the power of Serena Campbell. In their meeting in the bar that followed, and the series of emails and texts over the past six months, Bernie had found both a friend and someone she was eager to work with. This was her chance. She didn’t want to blow it.

Stepping out of the bathroom in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white oxford, she was prepared for another disinterested look from her eldest and a scathing look from her youngest. Instead, she got a smile from Cameron. “You look great, Mum.”

Charlotte’s smile was even brighter. “That’s it. _Perfect._ Smart enough to look professional, casual enough for a wine bar.”

“Sexy enough to get a second date.” Both Wolfe women paused, turning to stare blankly at Cameron. He shrugged off their scrutiny. “What? You can’t stop talking about her, Mum. I figured you were into her.”

“I’m…I…” Bernie placed her hands in front of her, trying to stop herself from becoming flustered at her son’s insinuation. “Serena is a _friend,_ a potential colleague. Nothing more, Cam.”

He bobbed his head. “If you say so. Well you look great, anyway, Mum. I hope you get it. Would be nice to see more of you.”

Bernie’s heart lifted at Cameron’s words, Charlotte’s easy smile. This would be the moment a normal mother, in a normal family, would gather both her grown children up in her arms and kiss them until they squirmed. But they weren’t a normal family, and Bernie was far from a normal mother. It had only been in the last six months that they’d grown close again. After her return from Afghanistan, Bernie had never thought her children would be able to forgive the affair, to forgive all the anger and pain that followed. But they had. Time had healed. And she was taking this job to be closer to them.

She wanted to be a family again. So she _really_ needed to make a good impression.

\--

Stepping out of the shower, Serena raced across her bedroom at the sound of the message alert on her phone. Her face lit up when she realised it was a text from Bernie Wolfe. The trauma surgeon was always concise, sometimes overly formal in her responses. No kisses, no emoji’s. But the simple _Bernie_ signing off at the end made Serena’s stomach flutter. She fired off another text, confirming their plans for the night. A quiet wine bar _far_ away from Holby City Hospital: a few glasses of wine, perhaps a little food.

_The perfect first date._

After patting herself dry, Serena quickly dressed to impress. A matching set of black lingerie with red trim ( _who knows where the night will take us_ ); a well cut black dress that showed a little leg and more than a little cleavage. Red lipstick, a little rouge. The earrings she had picked up from Paris the last time she was there. Serena stared at herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress and fiddling with her hair. _Not bad, Campbell. Not bad._

Slipping into a pair of suede heels, Serena glided down the staircase and into the front room. Careful not to block Jason’s view of the television, she waited until _Tattoo Fixers_ went on an ad break before clearing her throat to get his attention. “So, Jason, what do we think?”

Her nephew peered at her, his forehead creasing. “That’s an awful lot of lipstick.”

“Right, thank you.” Disheartened, Serena immediately delved into her clutch for a tissue. “Any other comments?”

Jason looked again, still displeased. “You should wear a cardigan. You’ll get cold. Maybe some trousers too. The BBC Weather App says it could hit three degrees Celsius tonight.”

Serena glanced down at herself, trying to determine whether she was showing too much skin. She’d wanted to go for _sexy,_ not Mrs Robinson. “Well I _am_ going on a date, Jason. People tend to wear a little less.”

“You should be fine then.” _Tattoo Fixers_ returned, but Jason’s attention was still focussed on her. “Auntie Serena, what is the point of wearing less clothing on a date? What if the date was skiing or hiking?”

“Well, on dates you dress for the occasion.” Serena perched on the armchair opposite Jason, grateful to talk with him about an area she was familiar with. She rather failed at _World’s Strongest Man_ and the Premier League _._ “We’re meeting at a wine bar. When you go to those sorts of places, you dress _up._ Dress sexy. _Show a little skin._ ”

Jason nodded. “With the intention of…”

Serena felt her cheeks flush under the rouge. “Attracting them, I guess.”

“So your breasts are acting as bait for Doctor Bernie?”

She snorted, suddenly flustered. After a few calming breaths, Serena managed to get a hold of herself. “I guess so, Jason. I want Bernie to like me.” _I want Bernie to want me._ “You’ll be fine whilst I’m out, yes?”

“Of course. You should have a good evening with Doctor Bernie. You talk about her often enough.”

She supposed she did talk about Bernie quite a lot. She was bright, beautiful, funny too. Serena had felt an attraction to her the moment Bernie had took the free stool beside her at the bar; thwarting the many pot-bellied doctors wishing to claim her as their conference prize. They had spent the rest of the weekend side by side, arm in arm. It had been nice to find a friend, a fellow surgeon. But as time went on, Serena began to think about Bernie differently. Less as a friend, more as a… _lover_. 

“Well, if tonight goes well, I’ll probably be talking about her quite a lot more. You might even get to meet her.” Serena fiddled with her hair one last time before reaching over to say goodbye to Jason. “I’ll keep you updated, let you know where I am.”

Jason nodded absentmindedly, his focus having shifted back to the television already. “Have a good night, Auntie Serena. Don’t be nervous.”

What was there to be nervous about? It was just a first date. Serena ate first dates for breakfast _._ A few glasses of wine, a little light flirting. They had already covered all the boring stuff during their friendship so now they could move straight into sexual innuendo and maybe even a little romance. Just because it was Serena’s first date with a _woman_ didn’t change things. It wasn’t as if the rules were different. It wasn’t as if she had no idea what she was doing.

She wanted something _more_ with Bernie. So she really needed to impress her.

\--

 _Providence Wine Bar_ was not Bernie’s usual sort of drinking hole. She liked quiet pubs with a darts board and a pool table, maybe even a fruit machine. She did not enjoy bars with low lighting, alternating in colours of pink and blue. She did not care for mirrored bars or snug booths in dark corners. As Bernie explored further inside, she decided to double check Serena’s original text message. _Providence Wine Bar, 7pm._ In all of Bernie’s imagination, she could not have designed a less appropriate venue for a job interview. Even if it _was_ informal.

“Bernie!”

At the sound of her name, Bernie swept the bar for the speaker. She soon found a gorgeous brunette propping up the bar and, despite an elegant hand waving her closer, Bernie found herself rooted to the spot. Serena Campbell was in a stunning black dress, cut just above the knee with enough cleavage on show to make Bernie’s blood pressure rise. Cherry red lips and teased hair completed the ensemble. _How many steps would it take to have her up against that bar…_

“Bernie!” Serena was suddenly in front of her, nimble fingers encircling her wrist and her head leaning forward to press warm lips against her cheek. Bernie lingered, desperate for another whiff of her perfume. “I’m glad you found it. Bottle of Shiraz, two glasses?”

She nodded, completely dumbfounded, more than happy to let Serena lead her to the bar and then on to a snug little booth in the corner. They took opposite sides, the small table acting as a desk between them. Of course any ounce of formality was washed away with Bernie unable to stop herself from staring down Serena’s dress.

“I’m sorry, you did realise it was _me_ coming, right?”

Serena laughed nervously, her hand reaching up to touch the pendant around her neck. “Too much? Jason thought it was too much.”

She’d offended her. _Damn._ “I wouldn’t say…I mean…you look…” _Use your words, Wolfe._ “You look _beautiful_ , Serena. I was just surprised. I mean, I look-“

“Perfect.” Serena laughed again, that laugh that seemed both uncertain and excited in equal measure. “Sorry. Let’s open this wine, shall we?

Needing to do something with her hands other than reaching for Serena Campbell, Bernie busied herself with the wine. She poured them both a large glass, and they quickly snatched at the stemware. Serena’s wine was finished half a second before Bernie’s. She knew why _she_ was nervous. She had no idea why Serena was too.

“So,” Serena started as she poured them a second glass. “How are Cameron and Charlotte?”

A topic she could talk about for hours. Bernie smiled as she thought about her children. Cameron had returned to medicine, was actually enjoying it. Charlotte had just finished her teacher training and was in a serious relationship. Both, for the first time in ages, wanted to have her around. “ _They’re good_. They actually helped me with what to wear tonight. Well, Charlotte did. Cameron mostly just grunted.”

Serena smiled around the rim of her wine glass. “So they’re okay, then, about all… _this_?”

“Oh absolutely; they’re really excited!”

Serena raised an eyebrow, as if not quite believing that the Wolfe clan were finally reunited. “Well… _good._ I’m glad, I really am. I wish Elinor was quite as understanding as your children.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Bernie didn’t know what Serena’s daughter had to do with anything. She didn’t know much about her other than that she was a Daddy’s Girl and liked to get her own way. Maybe they’d had a fight.

Before she could probe any further, Serena brushed the topic off with a wave of her hand. “Let’s not talk about Elinor. Let’s talk about _you._ About you and me. _Us._ ” A thin smile. Serena swallowed half her wine again, barely looking Bernie in the eye until the glass was safely back on the table. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“There’s no need for you to be.” Maybe it was the first time Serena had interviewed someone, although that hardly seemed likely. “Serena, you are possibly the most intimidating woman I have ever met.”

That smirk, the twinkle in the eye; _that_ was the Serena Bernie knew best. “Really?”

She grinned. “Oh yes. The first time I ever saw you, you were making a grown man openly weep in a seminar on trauma medicine. Serena Campbell, you are a _legend._ If anyone has any reason to be nervous tonight, it’s me.”

Serena snorted, once again wrapping her fingers around the glass of wine. “At least you have experience in this field.”

“Well, _yes._ ” Charlotte had suggested she look for any openings to talk herself up, as unnatural as it might feel to her. This was one of those times. “I mean, my interest started back at university but I didn’t get much experience until I left. Over the years I’ve developed quite a reputation. A name for myself, if you will. I think I even won an award once.”

\--

Serena spluttered, dark eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry?”

Across the table, Bernie continued to nod as if nothing was amiss. “Yes. Back when I was a F1. I also have a couple of medals from my time in the RAMC. They’re in a box back at the flat; I don’t really like to have them out.”

Blinking once, twice, Serena tried to reorient herself in the conversation. She thought they had been talking about their dating experiences, namely that Bernie had had a handful of female partners whilst Serena was rather left feeling like a shy, virginal schoolgirl. _Why_ Bernie had begun talking about her illustrious career in medicine, Serena couldn’t figure out. Suddenly it clicked.   _It was a joke;_ that was it. _Experience in the field; trauma surgery._ Bernie was trying to put her at ease.  

Serena was grateful, and hoped the smile she gave Bernie showed it. “I wouldn’t mind seeing your medals one day. Wouldn’t mind seeing you in your uniform, either. Always appreciated a man in uniform.” Serena rather imagined the same would hold true for Major Wolfe. In fact, she’d had several fantasies involving it.

“I can’t remember where I’ve put it. I’ve got stuff at the flat; there are still some things at the old house. I have a unit where I’ve stored things too.” Bernie paused, the line of her shoulders suddenly tightening. “It sounds like I’m not organised, but I am. I remember the important things.”

Serena smiled. She hoped she was one of the important things. “I’m glad to hear it.”

There was a sudden lull in conversation; a quiet moment where they could both drink their wine. Serena felt Bernie’s eyes on her, tracing the neckline of her dress and the skin underneath. She was trying to hide it. Serena didn’t want to be hidden. So she leant forward to reach the bottle, giving Bernie more than an eyeful. The trauma surgeon quickly blushed; the tips of pink ears visible under that mop of blonde curls. Serena decided to push her luck a little further. A single foot brushed against Bernie’s leg.

Bernie jumped like she had been scalded, knocking her wine all over the table and herself. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly at her friend, Serena found a passing waiter and borrowed his cloth. She quickly mopped up the table. “Waste of perfectly good wine, Ms Wolfe.”

“Apologies, Ms Campbell,” Bernie muttered, dabbing at her jeans with a tissue as she sat back down. “Wine is awful to get out.”

“Here, let me.”

Serena hadn’t intended to sit beside Bernie in the booth and help clean up spilt wine. But she found her hand rubbing the cloth against Bernie’s thigh, occasionally slipping over the seam of her jeans. Wetting her lips, Serena entertained thoughts of moving that cloth right between Bernie’s legs, seeing what the composed trauma surgeon would look like when Serena teased her. Of course this was a public place and this was their first date. But Serena was tired of waiting; tired of anticipating. She needed Bernie. _Tonight._

As her hand dipped lower on the seam of Bernie’s jeans, a hand shot out and clutched at her wrist. A tight embrace, but not altogether unpleasant. Serena found herself rather turned on by Bernie’s show of strength. “Thank you, Serena. I think that’s the worst of it.”

“We might have to get those jeans off you.” Bernie went stiff again, and Serena patted her knee, trying to relax her. “Sorry if I’m a little forward tonight. When I get nervous, I _flirt._ ”

“You don’t need to be nervous, Serena.”

“Oh I do.” Rubbing the curve of Bernie’s knee, Serena tried to put her new found feelings into words. “This isn’t easy for me. None of it. I’ve been alone for quite some time, and even when I _did_ have partners…well there’s a reason they’re not around anymore, right?”

Bernie nodded, resting her hand atop of Serena’s. “I get it. I haven’t really worked well with anyone since…well, since Alex, and we both know how that turned out. The couple of partners I’ve had at the Royal Infirmary have been alright but they couldn’t really keep up.”

“I can.” _She hoped she could._

Bernie’s grin was electric, warming Serena from the inside out. “Oh, _I know_ you can _._ Really, neither of us has any need to be nervous. We’re going to make an amazing team.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Reaching over for the bottle, Serena felt Bernie’s eyes on her once again. They held her gaze as she drained the last of the Shiraz into Bernie’s empty glass. Serena wondered, briefly, whether she should move back to the other side of the booth, give them a little distance. But she enjoyed being close to Bernie, and Bernie seemed to hold no objections. This was a date, not a bloody job interview.

“So,” Bernie volunteered, taking a sip of wine. “Tell me about the ward.”

An unusual conversation starter for a first date, but Serena liked that she was interested in AAU. If things went well between them, and Bernie was agreeable, maybe Serena could put in a word with Hanssen. “The ward? Same as usual. Understaffed, barely funded. There was an incident yesterday; young lad, just terrible. We’re not cut out for trauma cases on AAU. We need another consultant too. Every other department has two apart from mine _._ But what we _really_ need is a trauma surgeon.”

“ _Of course_. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to share your kingdom with just anyone.”

“Absolutely not.” Serena smirked, thinking of Bernie in AAU blue. Her thoughts quickly devolved into her and Bernie in the on-call room. “I want someone I can trust. Someone who brings a little innovation to the game. I’m always up for trying new things.”

Bernie bobbed her head, staring into the bottom of her glass again. “I feel exactly the same.”

“It’s why I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Bernie finally met her eyes, although more than once they glanced down towards her mouth. “It’s really nice to be back in Holby. To see my children, to see _you._ I’m so glad we’re friends, Serena.”

 _Friends_ didn’t exactly inspire Serena with confidence. Bernie’s unrelenting gaze on her mouth, however, did. “Well, by the end of the night, I think we might be more than just _friends_ , Bernie.”

\--

_More than just friends._

As they both finished their wine, Bernie couldn’t help the smile on her face. She’d done it; she’d actually done it. Despite her clumsy behaviour and her barely restrained attraction to Serena, Bernie had been able to secure a position at Holby City. _More than friends._ Soon they would be colleagues, partners; running AAU _together_. In their texts, Serena had mentioned the CEO wanted to fund a new trauma bay. State of the art equipment, cutting edge surgical techniques. For the first time since she’d left her commission, Bernie was truly excited about medicine. And it was all thanks to Serena Campbell.

“I think this calls for a toast,” Bernie said, feeling overwhelmed and more than a little giddy. She clutched at Serena’s hand, beaming at her. “Celebrate a little? Is that-am I being too premature?”

Rather than put the brakes on the Bernie express, Serena grinned. Her eyes were shining; her excitement just as obvious as Bernie’s own. “Not at _all._ I’ll go get us a bottle of champagne and maybe a little something to eat _?_ Any requests?”

She shrugged. “Chips? Not something too messy; I like clean hands.”

Bernie didn’t know why Serena was giggling, but Bernie just decided to go along for the ride. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She had no intention of leaving. Now that the interview part of the evening was over, Bernie could enjoy spending some time with her closest friend. Texts and emails and the occasional chat over Skype were nothing compared to actually being with Serena. Of course the flesh and blood version had some drawbacks. A rather pert arse that Bernie was watching walk away. Devilish legs and an incredible pair of breasts. Serena looked good enough to eat and Bernie needed to keep her hands to herself. Her…tendencies had already ruined her relationship with her children once. She wouldn’t let it do so again.

_Hands to yourself, Wolfe, and the job is yours._

“I haven’t seen you before. Are you new here?”

Bernie’s brow furrowed; it taking her a few moments to realise that the attractive redhead was talking to her. She hadn’t even noticed her take Serena’s seat, although Bernie felt irrationally angry that she had. “No, haven’t been here before. But I used to live in the city. I’m just visiting family.”

“That’s cool.” She leant back against the vinyl, her ivory dress splashed with the colours of the artificial lights above them. “Whenever I go travelling I always enjoy meeting new people, making new friends. How about you buy me a drink and we get to know each other a little better?”

Since her divorce from Marcus, Bernie had never really put herself out on the dating scene. Her one visit to a gay bar had led to the comforting and tending to of a very ill young woman that had later turned out to be Charlotte’s new girlfriend. She never really recognised when someone was attracted to her. Even now it took the redhead’s hand on her leg to realise she was flirting with her. Unconsciously, Bernie glanced towards the bar. Serena was watching them, her hands clenched. 

“I don’t mind getting to know your girlfriend a little better either.”

“Serena’s not my girlfriend. She’s…” Bernie paused, trying to put Serena into clinical terms. “She’s just my friend.”

The redhead snorted. “Well try telling _her_ that. She’s been all over you all night. If she’s not your girlfriend, she sure wants to be.”

Bernie was dimly aware of the redhead leaving the booth. But in reality her attention was solely fixed upon Serena. Serena Campbell: who had driven Bernie crazy from their very first meeting. Serena Campbell: who Bernie had stayed up late thinking about more nights than she could count. Serena Campbell: beautiful, brilliant, _straight_ Serena Campbell who was looking at her in a way that Bernie had never seen before. Like she wanted her. _Really wanted her._

She lunged for her bag, quickly searching for her phone. She swept past email notifications and software updates and went straight to Serena’s texts; the words “ _It’s a date”_ making her chest heave. This wasn’t a job interview at all. It was a date with Serena. She was on a date with Serena Campbell!

Bernie suddenly realised she was hopelessly underdressed.

“I return.” Serena placed two flutes in front of her, a bottle of chilled champagne too. But despite the celebratory mood she had left in, Serena’s words were clipped; her eyes stormy. “I ordered a little something to eat as well.”

“Good.” Bernie couldn’t stop staring at Serena. Beautiful, _amazing_ Serena who was attracted to her; who actually wanted to _date_ her. She moved to sit on the other side of the booth, but Bernie quickly snagged her hand and practically pulled her into her lap. “I thought we were celebrating.”

The glint in Serena’s eye returned. “The redhead?”

“Don’t know her. Don’t care to know her.” Bernie ran her tongue along her bottom lip, and was pleased when Serena’s eyes followed the movement. “I have all the company I need right here.”

Suddenly all the noise and the lights and the people faded away, and in the moment it was just the two of them. Serena pressed so close that Bernie could smell her perfume; nimble surgeon fingers brushing along her knee and thigh. She could feel her heart pound in her ears; her vision narrowing until it was just Serena’s face, her lips. Both of them kept watching the other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Serena had asked her out. The least Bernie could do is kiss her.

But, just as she leant in, her phone buzzed. Serena pulled away, checking the screen. “Cameron.”

“He can wait.”

Serena chuckled, putting breathing space between them as she toyed with the screen of Bernie’s phone. “I’m sure he’s just checking up on his mummy. It’s cute, really, that he cares so much.”

Bernie wanted to throw her phone in the ice bucket and return to their moment, their kiss. But Serena was pulling down the notification to check the message, no doubt to tease her about the role reversal of a child checking in on their parent. But as Serena’s face fell, Bernie realised that something was wrong. And then she saw the message.

\--

_Hi Mum, it’s Cam. Lottie and I hope the job interview is going well! Serena would be crazy not to hire u!_

Serena’s fingers tightened around Bernie’s phone; her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the message. _Job interview. Serena would be crazy not to hire you._ This was a joke, must be a joke. Maybe Bernie had told a little white lie to cover her date with Serena; made up a job interview rather than tell her children she was going on a date with a woman. Maybe… _maybe._ Because this _was_ a date. She had dressed up; gone all out on the cleavage and the lipstick and _her hand was still on Bernie’s thigh._ There was _champagne_ for fuck’s sake. _This was a date._

Suddenly, Serena was no longer sure. She knew she had to leave, to get some space to assess the situation. So she pinned on the smile she wore to Board meetings and patted Bernie’s knee as she extricated herself from the booth. “Just need to powder my nose; I’ll be right back.”

She could feel Bernie’s gaze hot on her back as she walked the few metres towards the ladies room. Unlike her walk to the bar, this journey felt more like a final walk to the gallows. Once inside, Serena quickly barricaded herself in a toilet stall and sucked in a few dep breaths. _This is a date. This is a date._ She opened her clutch and looked at her phone, so sure that their text messages would validate her. But what she had previously read as Bernie suggesting they get together now read as a subtle job proposal.

Serena cursed. She was all dressed up like a dog’s dinner, practically _throwing herself_ at Bernie _bloody_ Wolfe. She didn’t want her. Just wanted a job. “ _Fuck._ ” 

It was time to leave. She wouldn’t make more of a spectacle of herself than she already had. Dabbing a wet paper towel at the mascara that threatened to run, Serena quickly prepared a story that would serve as her exit. As she returned to the booth, she saw Bernie with her phone pressed tight against her ear.

“No, Cam, it _wasn’t_ a job interview.” Oh god, now the whole Wolfe clan knew about this mess. They were probably having a good laugh at her ridiculous mistake. “No, _no,_ Cam, just because Serena thought it was a date doesn’t mean that Charlotte owes you twenty quid.”

Serena didn’t even want to _know._ She just wanted to leave. She took a few timid steps in front of Bernie’s eye line; Bernie quickly cutting off the call to her son. Her features were quickly formed into one of sympathy. “Serena…”

“Jason called; there’s a problem at the house,” she blurted out, unwilling to entertain Bernie’s pity for another second. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short.”

Bernie nodded, no doubt not believing a word of Serena’s story. “I’m still in Holby for a couple more days. We could get coffee one afternoon?”

“No. I can’t. Full shifts; busy ward. You know how it is. It was nice to see you, Bernie.” Her smile was thin, forced. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from falling apart. _No more spectacles._ “Goodnight.”

Serena heard her name called a few times over the soft lull of the music but she did not respond. Instead she threaded her way through the crowds and practically ran for the exit. Outside, she felt the cold Jason had warned her about. As her frostbitten fingers called for a taxi, Serena burst out laughing as she realised it was the perfect end to a nightmare of an evening. The taxi splashed her suede heels as he pulled up to the kerb, and Serena promised him an extra tenner if he got her home in law-breaking speed. Soon enough she was at her front door,

Jamming the key in the lock, Serena hoped that Jason was sound asleep or had least taken himself upstairs. He was neither. Her nephew turned as he heard her footsteps, frowning as he glanced between her and the clock on the mantle. “You’re home early. Did you not have a good night?”

“No, no I didn’t, Jason.”

If she didn’t like the sympathy on Bernie’s face, she liked it even less on Jason’s. “What happened?”

“I…” _I thought it was a date and she thought it was a job interview. I thought she liked me but only thinks about me professionally._ “I didn’t have the right bait, Jason.”

“I see. Perhaps Doctor Bernie prefers your legs?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think she prefers anything about me, Jason. I’m going to have an early night; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Serena tore off her heels, padding solemnly up the stairs to her room. The dress went in the wash basket; each layer of make-up scrubbed off. Once every sign of her date was removed, Serena finally checked her phone. Three messages from Bernie and a voicemail too. She didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to read anything from her. Didn’t want her pity. Didn’t want her kind voice telling her that they were friends and nothing more. So she turned off her phone and threw it in a drawer.

What a fool she had been.

\-- 

_Serena, I really enjoyed seeing you last night. I know you’re busy but I could always meet you for coffee at the hospital? Pain au chocolate, my treat? Just let me know._

_Bernie Wolfe_

_I hope things haven’t been too crazy at the hospital. Still here for one more day, coffee tomorrow? Or we could get a drink after your shift? There’s a restaurant at the hotel that’s pretty decent. Just let me know._

_Bernie_

_Sorry we didn’t get a chance to see each other again before I left. I’m checking out early tomorrow; got to get the train back to Leicester. I’m always up early for a run if you can squeeze in a quick coffee, maybe breakfast? Just let me know, Serena. Just let me know that you’re okay._

_Bernie x_

\--

As she waited in the queue to check out, Bernie gave her phone another glance. She had been glued to the device for the last two days, checking every possible second to make sure she hadn’t missed a message from Serena. One voicemail, two emails, multiple texts. She wanted to apologise for Cam’s message, for not running after Serena and telling her exactly how much she wanted to be on a date with her. But the voicemail had remained unheard, the two emails unopened, the multiple texts delivered but unread.

So she was checking out, returning to Leicester. No new job. No new relationship with her children. _No Serena._

The queue was held up by a gentleman at the front arguing loudly over room charges. The clock above the check-in-desk ticked ever closer to the departure of Bernie’s train. Huffing at the prospect of missing it, Bernie checked her phone again. _Nothing._ She glanced around the lobby instead of staring at her phone, catching the gaze of a well-dressed man in the corner. He’d been there since she’d come down. Tall; perched with a straight back on a fuchsia leather sofa. Dark eyes that were watching only her.

“I’m sorry; can I help you with something?”

The man unfolded himself from his seat. “Yes, I think you may. Henrik Hanssen. And you are Bernie Wolfe.”

He offered no hand for her to shake. Just a wry smile as if he was in on some joke she had yet to hear the punchline for. “Yes, I am Bernie Wolfe. Is there something I can do for you? I have a train to catch.”

“Perhaps.” Bernie was growing increasingly impatient with this man. “As I said, my name is Henrik Hanssen and I am the CEO of Holby City Hospital.” _Hanssen._ Bernie recalled the name now. Serena had mentioned him several times in their emails. “At Holby City, we pride ourselves on providing the best healthcare possible. This means the best equipment, the best research, the best doctors. Unfortunately, we are currently lacking a trauma surgeon.”

Bernie shifted the strap of her bag, uncomfortable with his sales pitch. Two days ago she would have jumped at this chance. Now… _now…_ ”I have a job. I work for the Royal Infirmary in Leicester.”

Hanssen nodded. “I am aware. But what I am offering you is significantly _more_. More money, closer accommodation to your family. Your own trauma bay, Ms Wolfe. You’ll even be working alongside Ms Campbell. I do believe you two are acquainted, are you not?”

“We are. Does she know about this? Approve of this?”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Bernie paused, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Her own trauma bay. She would get to see her kids all the time. But she’d already hurt Serena enough. Holby was her kingdom. She wouldn’t take it from her. “Then I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Admirable loyalty, Ms Wolfe. A quality I know Ms Campbell admires.” Hanssen took a step forward. “Ms Campbell has made it quite clear her desire for a trauma bay on AAU. Yesterday I asked her to produce a shortlist of names to lead it. You were at the top of her list.”

“Then yes,” Bernie blurted out, unable to restrain herself. If Serena wanted her, even after everything that had happened the other night, she’d take it. “Yes, I’d like to accept your offer.”

Hanssen smiled; a picture that was altogether unsettling. “A wise move, Ms Wolfe. I will contact you later today with the details. You should be back in Holby by the end of the month.”

There was no further conversation. Hanssen gave a slight tilt of his head and left through the revolving doors of the hotel. The clerk at the desk called for her, but Bernie was too lost in thought to hear. She had a job at Holby City. She would have her own trauma bay. She would get to see her children. All that was left was Serena.

Smiling, Bernie finally turned to check out of the hotel. She was leaving for now. But she would be back. _For her._

\-- 

_FROM: Hanssen, Henrik <henrik.hanssen@hch.nhs.uk>_

_TO: Campbell, Serena <serena.campbell@hch.nhs.uk>_

_SUBJECT: Trauma Unit_

_Ms Campbell,_

_As per your request, funding has been made available for a new trauma unit attached to AAU. Construction on this project will begin shortly. A new consultant has also been hired to provide lead on the trauma unit, as well as to assist you with the general duties of AAU. The new consultant was a name from your shortlist, and comes highly recommended. If you have any reservations, please do not hesitate to contact me._

_Henrik Hanssen, CEO._

\-- 

Walking into Holby City hospital, Serena kept re-reading Hanssen’s latest email. She couldn’t believe the Swede had actually gone and done it. For _months_ she had been complaining about their out of date equipment and poor training. But just like that she had an upcoming trauma bay and a new consultant on her ward. _Just like that._ As she travelled the familiar route to AAU, Serena tried to work out who Hanssen had hired. She’d given him the names of five consultants. The top of her list? Bernie Wolfe. There really was no one better. But she knew Bernie wouldn’t accept, not after Serena’s behaviour that night.

Putting her name on the shortlist was an olive branch. Serena’s way of telling her that she was a fantastic surgeon; certainly worth a place at Holby City. Maybe the job offer would put them in good stead, even if they never spoke again. Of course Bernie could see it as insult on top of injury. Maybe it was good they would never speak again.

Swiping her key card against the door, Serena strode onto AAU. She read Hanssen’s email once more before hesitating over the unread text messages Bernie had sent. For a moment she considered reading them, indulging in the voice of the friend she missed so dearly. Even if those messages were less out of friendship and more out of pity for the woman who had so spectacularly misread the situation.

“Morning boss.”

Serena tucked her phone in her handbag, pushing thoughts of Bernie away as she greeted Fletch. “Morning, Fletch. How’s things?”

He gave a pained grimace. “The new consultant’s here; she’s waiting in your office.”

 _Kirsten Ramsey,_ the only other woman on her list besides Bernie. A fine surgeon if a little raucous. Had spent the last four years working in London. Serena was surprised she had taken up the post, had thought she’d never leave the capital. “Thank you, Fletch. I’ll welcome our new recruit and then we’ll be out for rounds.”

He nodded, offering her a small salute. “Show her who’s boss.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

AAU was still her ward, her _kingdom_ as Bernie had called it. Whilst she would defer to Ms Ramsey over trauma matters she would still be the consultant in charge. Pressing her hand to the door handle, Serena took in a deep breath before pushing forward. She expected to see a brunette head bent low over the spare desk in the office. Instead she was greeted by a familiar mop of blonde curls and warm, dark eyes.

“ _Bernie._ ”

“Surprise.” Her legs had been pulled up onto the chair, curled into as little space as possible as if afraid she was not welcome. But she was; she really was. “I would have called, but you’ve been too busy to reply.”

Serena snorted. “Hiding, more like.” She dropped her bag onto her desk, pulled off her coat. Her gaze stole back to Bernie, not quite believing she was here. “Bernie-“

“We should talk.”

“Yes, we should.” Serena sat down in her chair, putting two desks between them. Despite adding Bernie’s name to her shortlist, she had never _dreamed_ that she would actually accept. Bernie ran from awkward situations, she did not fight them head on. Serena wondered if she should read anything into Bernie willing to fight for this, or whether she was just seeing things in Bernie that she wanted to see. “I’m glad you’re here. What I said – that night – is all true. I want someone I can trust. Someone innovative, brave. Who isn’t afraid of a challenge.”

Bernie nodded, smiling warmly across the desk. “I can be all those things for you, Serena.”

“I know you can.”

“What _I_ want out of a partner is trust, faith. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m doing things wrong. Someone who won’t force me to be someone I’m not.” Serena felt her stomach flutter at the way Bernie was looking at her. “I want someone who can keep up. Professionally, personally…and sexually.”

Serena froze in her chair. She’d misheard her _surely._ But Bernie was leaving her seat and taking up the space beside Serena. Her hand was holding hers, the other brushing her knee. Bernie was staring up at her like no one ever had. Not Robbie, not Angus…certainly not Edward. She was looking at her like the universe began and ended with her. Like she _loved_ her.

“I like you, Serena. _More_ than like you, I…” Blonde fringe dipped low over her eyes. “That night, when I realised you thought we were on a date together, I was so _unbelievably_ happy. I never thought you were interested in me like that. I never thought of _us_ as an option.”

“We are. _I am._ ” Serena lifted her palm to Bernie’s cheek; let her fingertips curve over the nape of her neck. “Maybe not from the beginning, but certainly now.”

“ _Good_.”

Bernie kissed her. No preamble, no lingering glances. One moment Serena was touching her face and the next Bernie’s lips were pressed against hers. She let out a gasp, surprised by it all. Bernie stole her second breath, and her third. She’d never been kissed by a woman before. Her lips were softer, warmer, wetter. The hair she clung to was longer; the weight of her curls feeling _glorious_ in Serena’s hands. Bernie took her time kissing Serena. A lingering kiss to her top lip; a gentle tug with her teeth on her bottom lip. She couldn’t help the groan at how Bernie kissed her, or the flutter in her stomach with every brush of her lips, her tongue.

She felt like jelly as Bernie paused, giving them both some room to breathe. Her hands still cupped Serena’s face. “If Cam hadn’t texted us that night, I would have kissed you just like that.”

“I hope you intend to kiss me like that again.”

Bernie nodded, leaning forward. “Every hour, every day.”

Serena initiated the kiss this time, beckoning Bernie into her lap as her hands travelled the breadth of Bernie’s shoulders, her back. Her fingers trailed along her spine and Bernie moaned into her mouth. “We should…we should stop,” she said between kisses. “I’ve always held very strong opinions about inter-office relationships. I don’t want someone to catch us.”

“I’ll lock the door.”

Trustworthy, innovative, _sexy._ Everything Serena had always looked for in a partner. She watched as Bernie raced to lock the door, pausing to just stare at Serena across the office. _Their office._ She had first met Bernie Wolfe in a hotel bar in Bath where it had taken three whiskeys for them to admit what both of them had been looking for. _A home._ Not just personally, but professionally too. Serena recalled sitting in that bar, listening to Bernie’s honking laugh as she told old war stories, saying quietly to herself: _You. I’ve been looking for you._

As Bernie kissed her again, Serena knew that Bernie had been looking for her too.


End file.
